Brie Masters Love in Submission: Submissive in Love (93 page)

Her laughter was tinged with hysteria. “Brie, he claims he wouldn’t hurt anyone, but he’s set on killing his own mother.” She screamed at Sir, “You cold-hearted bastard!”

“The only reason I entertained your false hope regarding the Beast was that I cared about your emotional needs. That is no longer the case.”

“Don’t say that. You still care about me—I’m your fucking sister for God’s sake!”

“I have no sister.”

The panic in her voice rose to a fever-pitch. “No… You can’t abandon me like that, and I’m sure as hell not letting you kill Mother! You’re fucking with the wrong person, Thane!” Lilly grabbed her purse and rushed out of the room.

Sir’s eyes narrowed as he watched her go. He shut the door and ordered, “Look for the phone.”

It was a shock to Brie how cunning Sir was. The two siblings were dangerously adept at manipulating each other.

She rifled through the drawers while Sir tore through Lilly’s luggage with no luck. Sir scanned the room. “Leave nothing unturned—it’s got to be here.”

He finally struck gold when he overturned the mattress. The cell phone had been hidden between it and the box spring, stuffed clear to the center where it could not be found.

“I
knew
it,” he growled furiously, holding up the phone.

Finding his cell was important on many levels. Not only did it prove Lilly’s malicious intent, but just as critical to Sir, it had all his business contacts, information and messages.

“What a fool I was,” he growled in disgust, slipping it into his pocket, “and I played right into her hands.”

“I wish I hadn’t encouraged you to ignore your cautious nature.”

Sir shook his head. “You only told me what I wanted to hear. I needed to believe that Lilly was different, and now I’m paying the price for it.”

“Not everyone is untrustworthy, Sir. You shouldn’t have to question the loyalty of family.”

“I forgot one fundamental rule—only bad comes from
anything
associated with my mother.”

Brie wrapped her arms around him. “I disagree, Sir. You’re proof of that.”

Sir kissed the top of her head before directing her towards the door. “It’s essential we distance ourselves from Lilly and everything to do with her.”

“So we’re not going to the hospital?” Brie asked in surprise.

“No. We’ll be headed back to LA on the next available flight. I need to meet with Thompson to discuss how to proceed from here.”

“What about your mother, Sir?”

“The Beast can rot for all I care!”

The harshness of his attitude was understandable, but it still shocked her. Such hatred could only hurt Sir in the end.

He saw her look of concern. “I will deal with her later, Brie. Right now I need to leave, or I’m liable to kill the Beast’s daughter.”

Sir took the hotel notepad on the desk and scribbled a quick message. He handed it to Brie and asked her to sign it, before leaving it on the disheveled bed for Lilly to find.

The phone has been located. Go crawl back to the hole you came from.

Further contact is prohibited.

Sincerely, Thane L. Davis and Brianna R. Bennett

On the plane ride home, Sir put his roomy first-class seat back in a full recline position and had Brie snuggle on top of him. He covered her with a blanket and held her, saying nothing. Those twelve hours were some of the most emotionally intimate she’d experienced with Sir, even though no words were exchanged.

When they finally landed, Sir whispered in her ear, “My safe haven.”

“Always, Sir. Condors forever.”

“Do you think I should get that tattooed on my ass?”

She smiled, giggling when she answered, “Only if it pleases you, Sir.”

Sir spent his first week back locked in meetings with his lawyer, while Brie finished editing her film for Holloway’s presentation. Although it was only a rough edit, she was determined to impress the man with her sequel.

Unfortunately, Mr. Holloway was in a foul mood when she finally had the chance to meet with him. If Brie had a choice, she would have cancelled the meeting right then and there.

As it was, she was forced to weather out the storm when he opened the meeting with, “Miss Bennett, I hope to hell it’s good. I’m not in the mood for amateur hour.”

“You’ll be impressed,” she replied evenly, handing him the DVD. He slipped it into the player and sat back, an unpleasant scowl on his face.

“Would you like me to come back another time?” Brie suggested before her film started, hoping he would jump on the offer.

“Hell, no. I’m behind enough as it is.”

Brie kept her disappointment to herself, knowing there was a very real chance Mr. Holloway could pull the project, making all her hard work mean nothing. She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart.

The intro began with a dark screen and some heavy bass. He paused the film and frowned. “What’s this crap?”

“It’s called dubstep, Mr. Holloway. It’s popular among young people.”

“Pick something more classic, damn it. Our target audience is much broader, Miss Bennett.”

She nodded, mentally noting where she could add dubstep farther into the film as she wrote down his suggestion. He was right, of course—this documentary
was
meant to be multi-generational. “Got it.”

He huffed, growling to himself, “Why I have to point out the obvious is beyond me.”

Brie hated falling short of his expectations, but suspected that anyone who had the misfortune of crossing paths with him today was guaranteed to suffer similar humiliation.

She noticed his keen interest whenever Mary came onto the screen. This wasn’t the first time he’d shown interest in her, and Brie was curious why. Was it simply due to her good looks, or did she and the producer have some kind of personal connection Brie didn’t know about?

Whatever the case, Holloway seemed disgusted when the documentary ended. “I specifically asked for more scenes with Miss Wilson. Where the hell are they?”

“They’re all there, Mr. Holloway. There were some unforeseen issues at the commune, which limited her screen time.”

He leaned forward, snarling, “And I bet those
issues
would make great film, wouldn’t they, Miss Bennett?”

“No.”

“Yet again you disappoint me. You’re not a great film-maker, Miss Bennett. You don’t have the instincts for it.” He leaned forward and added harshly, “You’re so concerned about people’s
feelings
that you sabotage your own damn work.”

Brie felt sick. It was clear that Mr. Holloway hated the film…and even worse, he was right about her. Her concern for Mary and Faelan were more important than the success of this documentary. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Holloway.”

“It’s not just me who’s disappointed. Surely you must be disgusted by this amateurish attempt. Such a shame your parents wasted their hard-earned retirement putting the likes of you through college.”

Had it been a year ago, Brie would have been crushed by Mr. Holloway’s words—but not anymore. She was confident in her abilities and wasn’t willing to back down. “I have a good handle on what the viewers want to see, and this second documentary has it. Wouldn’t you agree that Rytsar Durov’s scene is a powerful piece of film?”

He raised his eyebrow as he thought back on it. “With the recent publicity concerning him, that might play out in our favor—but it’s not enough.”

“You didn’t care for my scene with Baron?”

A slight smirk greeted her question, but he quickly squashed it.

His unconscious reaction let her know that her film hit closer to the mark than he wanted to let on. Brie was certain that her work was not the huge disaster he was claiming it to be. The challenge was getting him to admit it without pissing him off.

“I thought the session with Ms. Clark playing with her two subs was entertaining to watch.”

He nodded. “The Domme is majestic on screen.”

“I also believe the audience will go crazy for Tono Nosaka’s modern version of Kinbaku.”

Mr. Holloway took out a cigar and lit it, taking in a long drag before releasing the smoke slowly from his lips. “It has merit.”

“Am I wrong in assuming that the issue you have with my film boils down to it not having enough drama?”

“No,” he stated firmly, leaning towards her. “Not more drama, Miss Bennett. I asked for more of Miss Wilson. I couldn’t have made it clearer—and yet you defy me.” He pointed his cigar at her. “
That
is what I have an issue with.”

Brie understood that the fate of her film was in jeopardy, and gently defended herself. “Defy is a strong word, Mr. Holloway. I
had
planned to get additional shots centering on Miss Wilson, but extenuating circumstances prevented it.”

“As the producer, I’m not interested in excuses. Where is she now?”

“Mary is staying in Denver at the moment,” Brie answered, not offering any specifics.

Mr. Holloway answered with a condescending smile, “Then I suggest you get on a plane right
now
and film Miss Wilson, like I asked.”

Brie knew better than to argue with the man in his current state, so she swallowed her pride and stood up. “I’ll take what you’ve said into consideration.”

“No. You will do exactly what I say or I’ll shitcan the film.”

It took everything in her not to respond. Instead of jeopardizing the film further, Brie simply nodded and started towards the door, but she couldn’t help looking back and asking, “What is your interest in Miss Wilson, anyway?”

The surly man glared at her. “Out!”

Brie smiled. Whatever strange hold Mary had over Mr. Holloway, it was enough to keep her documentary alive—for now.

Brie laughed to herself as she exited the building, pleased by how much she’d grown. Before Sir and the Training Center, a heated confrontation like that would have completely derailed her, but now she actually felt energized by it. There was a thrill in being challenged on work she was passionate about.

This was a different kind of confidence. For Brie it wasn’t about fighting to save herself, it was about fighting for the project and all the people who could benefit from the film. Little did Mr. Holloway suspect he had unleashed the dragon inside her, and woe befall any man who got in her way.

The Limo Ride

B
rie did not take Mr. Holloway’s advice about running back to Denver. Instead, she started rearranging the scenes in the film, having been inspired by their meeting. She knew Mary and Faelan needed time alone, and frankly, so did she and Sir.

Sir was extremely busy with his business and their wedding plans, but surprisingly, rather than spend his nights working, which had been his norm, he made the choice to put away his computer every evening and revel in his submissive instead.

Each night Sir sat, drinking his martini, as he admired a new pose he’d requested from her. It was like a game between them—she was his canvas and he was the artist. It had the feel of objectification, except for the fact she was the center of attention.

It reminded Brie of nude models who posed for hours as the painter captured the image, except that Sir painted his picture with words rather than brush strokes, describing what he saw as he leisurely sipped his drink.